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Cafe D'Arc - Maid Jaune, Chapter 4
🕑 Added 2025-04-05 10:04:04 +0000 UTCSorry this took a while. My PC bricked and I had to write the latter half of the chapter on a shittier laptop. Anyways, hope you enjoy.
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Jaune trudged through the front doors of the maid cafe, the familiar bell jingling overhead like some cruel, mocking reminder of the life choices that had led him to this exact moment. His shoulders were slumped with the weight of exhaustion, shame, and the ever-pressing burden of financial strategy. The Atlesian Specialist uniform clung to him uncomfortably, the tight, regulation-style cut not designed for someone who had just endured a multi-hour punishment session from a Schnee heiress with more money than sense and absolutely zero chill.
He didn't make eye contact with the other maids as he passed through the cafe's main floor, ignoring their startled stares, the double takes, the soft murmurs of "Is that...Juliette?" because yes, it was Juliette.
But Juliette had had enough.
Without breaking stride, Jaune beelined toward the manager's office, throwing open the door without so much as a knock. The startled woman behind the desk looked up, startled for only a moment before her face lit up with a smile so wide and saccharine it nearly made Jaune's skin crawl.
"Juliette!" she chirped, clasping her hands together like they were old friends sharing brunch instead of, you know, one of them selling him to Weiss like a piece of meat, "I'm so happy to see you! I hope your time with Ms. Schnee was enjoyable!"
Jaune stared at her with the flat, dead-eyed expression of a man who'd seen too much. His hands hung limp at his sides, and his blonde bangs, still slightly damp from the shower he tried to take before Weiss dragged him back into her Winter fantasy, clung to his forehead in defeated little wisps. He looked like someone who'd been through war and lost.
"I quit," he said, tone as flat as his gaze.
The manager's smile faltered just a bit, her fingers twitching in the air, "Now, now, let's not be hasty-"
"I expect my final paycheck to be deposited into my account by today," Jaune continued, voice still low, even, and devoid of any inflection, "I put in enough hours to qualify for overtime, too."
The manager blinked, "Wait- Juliette, darling, let's talk about this." She stood up quickly, hands extended like she could physically pull him back into this madness with good vibes and high-pitched enthusiasm, "There's no need to end things on such a sour note! You've made incredible connections! Ms. Schnee's just the beginning!"
Jaune tilted his head slowly, like a man trying to process the sound of his own slow descent into a life of upscale gigolo work, "Connections?" he said, raising a single unimpressed brow.
"Yes!" the manager nodded rapidly, sensing an opening, "This is lucrative, Juliette! With your look and talent, you could pull in thousands! Tens of thousands! We split the profit, I handle the scheduling and vetting, and you get the premium clients. A fifty-fifty cut! Sixty-forty if you're picky!" she said the last part like she was offering him a magnanimous deal.
Jaune blinked, then calmly reached into the inner pocket of the Specialist jacket, pulled out his scroll, and with the weary grace of a man who had planned his escape while being actively molested by the Schnee family, tapped the screen to open his new webpage.
The manager leaned in and gasped.
It was sleek. Professional. The kind of page you wouldn't expect from a tired Beacon student who'd been emotionally pulverized by two women in the same week. There was a high-quality photo of him in the maid outfit (taken without his knowledge, thanks Weiss), a polished bio that framed him as a "unique, bespoke experience for refined clientele," and - this was the real kicker - an already growing list of client requests.
"I'm already getting bookings," Jaune said simply, scrolling past usernames like BigSisterS, SchneeKnight87, and the particularly concerning PyrrhaIsMyQueen, "I don't need to split anything with a wannabe pimp."
The manager paled, "N-Now hold on- Juliette, don't throw away everything we've built! We can grow this together! Think of the brand!" Jaune was already walking away, "Juliette!" she called after him, desperation creeping into her voice, "This doesn't have to be the end! We can expand! We can do special events! Couples sessions! Maid cafe deluxe!"
Jaune didn't stop. Didn't slow down. Didn't even look back. He walked through the cafe one last time, head held high, the skirt of the Specialist jacket swaying behind him like a victory flag. The door jingled gently as it closed behind him, the final note on a chapter that - if he had any say - he would never speak of again. The manager's screams felt like a gentle lullaby.
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Weeks passed, and what had started as a humiliating blip in Jaune's dignity had somehow transformed into a full-blown business empire. Well, "empire" might've been a stretch, but considering he had a rotating schedule, personalized bookings, and was raking in more Lien than most students (or even some Huntsmen) could only dream of, he was definitely living in the upper tax bracket of crossdressing maid capitalism.
The website had exploded in popularity faster than he ever expected. Word of mouth, viral posts, and just the sheer novelty of his services had turned him from "that awkward blonde guy from Beacon" into "Juliette, the most sought-after maid in Vale." And the kicker? He never once hid the fact that he was a guy. In fact, leaning into it - "yeah, I'm a guy, so what? pay up" - only made demand worse. Or better, depending on which side of his wallet he looked at.
Male clients got the standard packages: cleaning, organization, basic service. Nothing shady. He was firm about that. Polished floors, tidied rooms, vacuumed carpets. A perfectly honest gig. But the female clients? Oh, well, let's just say their packages had a few more... "premium options." Private sessions. Roleplay. Foot massages. Very personal tea ceremonies. And if anyone asked what "disciplinary roleplay" was, Jaune just said it was up to the client's imagination and winked.
The lien spoke for itself.
Sure, he wasn't proud to be, essentially, a part-time maid prostitute. He wasn't exactly rushing to tell his parents about his entrepreneurial pursuits. But every time he opened his bank account and saw another pile of zeroes, any shame he might've had got washed away in a tide of financial freedom. He wasn't just getting by, he was thriving. He had a savings account. A retirement plan. He even had a commission slot with Mistral's most exclusive blacksmith, who didn't even accept new clients. His new armor gleamed with rune-etched plating and lightweight alloy. It sang when it moved.
And whenever Cardin or his merry band of meatheads tried to take shots at him for wearing skirts and "servicing" lonely housewives, Jaune just smirked and pulled out his brand-new scroll - the top model, with holo-display and thumbprint encryption - and said, "That's cute. I got it custom engraved. Can you do that with your allowance?" That shut them up quick.
Sometimes, he wore his new armor into the cafeteria just to watch them squirm. He was 87% sure Cardin was considering hiring him out of pure spite.
His friends weren't exactly helpful, either. The site had gotten too popular to hide, and it didn't take a genius to figure out who "Juliette the Gentle Maid" was once they saw the promo photos.
Ren, because he was Ren, had said absolutely nothing. Not a word. Just offered a calm nod when Jaune tried to bring it up awkwardly and never brought it up again. Bro behavior. Gold star. Nora had cackled for five straight minutes. Then she asked if she could design his next outfit. He said no. She asked again every other day.
Pyrrha gave him a weird smile. Not her usual gentle, supportive one, but the kind that lingered a bit too long. The kind that made him wonder if she was proud of him for being financially independent... or planning something. When he asked what she thought of the site, she just said, "I'm happy you're growing as a person," and walked away.
Chilling.
Then there was Team RWBY.
Ruby, bless her innocent heart, had stumbled on the site while searching for "cute maid outfit references" for a class skit. Her face had gone beet red. She cornered him the next day and asked way too many questions, "Wait, so do you put just the outfits or the undies too? Do you get tips? Do you like it? Does anyone ever try to-" He cut her off somewhere around question fifteen and redirected her to the "FAQ" page.
Blake? Oh, Blake was the worst. She didn't even blink when she found out. Just raised an eyebrow, clicked around the site, and said in that calm, infuriating voice, "Your rates are competitive, but you'd double your clients if you added optional roleplay tiers. Maybe a 'knight and princess' package. Or librarian. People like that." Then she walked off, flipping her book closed like she hadn't just casually discussed ways he could whore himself out more.
Yang tried to roast him for weeks. She tried everything: innuendos, jokes about frills, cracking wise about polishing more than just floors. But then Jaune, deadpan, looked her in the eye and said, "I can buy Bumblebee with the leftovers from what I made last weekend." And just like that, the teasing stopped.
And then... there was Weiss.
Weiss Schnee. Beacon's resident heiress. Former recipient of his puppy-dog stares and barely-suppressed crush. Also his most frequent client.
Or... former client, as it turned out.
The drama went down in the cafeteria, where all truly great moments of social implosion occurred. Jaune had been minding his business, sitting with his tray of unremarkable but free school food, scrolling through his bookings, and sipping from his drink. He didn't even notice Weiss until she sat across from him, her chin high, her expression... strained. Like she was trying to look imperious but had a tick in her left eye.
"Jaune," she said sweetly. Way too sweetly.
"Hey, Weiss," he answered, still looking at his scroll, "Need to book a session?"
She twitched, "That's what I wanted to talk about."
He raised a brow but didn't look up.
"I... may be in a temporary state of reduced funding," she said with clear irritation, as if the words themselves were beneath her, "Father, in a completely disproportionate response to my perfectly reasonable expenses, has cut me off."
Jaune looked up, eyebrow arching, "Ah. So no more lien for... services." Weiss had been the most varied client to date. It wasn't just that she wanted him to dress up as her older sister, oh no. She liked to be worshipped. Sometimes, she made him kiss her feet. At other times, she played the role of a domineering princess ravaging the helpless prisoner. Let it never be said that Weiss Schnee lacked for creativity.
Weiss cleared her throat, "Yes. So I was wondering, given our history, if perhaps a... discount could be arranged. Perhaps even some free sessions?"
He blinked. Slowly, "A what?"
Weiss straightened, "You know. As a favor. We're friends, aren't we? Surely you wouldn't let something as petty as money stand between us?"
Jaune stared at her, utterly baffled, "Weiss. The last time we were alone, you told me to beg you for forgiveness for being a naughty little Dust thief. While calling me a 'dirty Faunus whore'."
Her ears went bright red, "That's irrelevant."
"I think it's extremely relevant."
She leaned forward, folding her hands in front of her, voice dropping to a whisper, "Come on, Jaune. Don't you have a crush on me? Your Snow Angel? Surely that's worth a freebie-"
"No discounts," he said flatly, "Especially not for what you were asking for."
There was a loud cough from the next table. Yang had gone completely still, her eyes wide with open delight. Ruby, mouth full of mashed potatoes, looked between them like she was watching a particularly juicy drama unfold. Blake didn't even blink, just kept chewing her salad like she was reading an especially spicy passage in a romance novel.
Weiss flushed from her collarbone to her hairline, "You insufferable-"
"Sorry," Jaune said, standing up and collecting his tray, "Business is business."
He walked off, scroll in hand, already replying to another high-paying client, as Weiss stared after him fuming while the rest of RWBY tried-and failed-to stifle their laughter. Jaune didn't look back. If she wanted Winter so badly, she could go ask her sister.
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Jaune was in the middle of another mundane yet surprisingly relaxing afternoon in Beacon's library, scrolling through his booking requests on his sleek new scroll. His newest armor gleamed comfortably under the library's gentle lighting, and his boots, custom-made from Atlesian leather that even Weiss would have been jealous of (and actually had been, given the way she'd pouted over them), rested easily on the polished table.
He'd gotten more foreign clients. A noblewoman from Mistral wanted him to serve at a tea ceremony while wearing a traditional kimono (thank you, childhood tea parties). Then there was the Atlas executive who wanted to roleplay being a wife who cheated on her husband. Whether that had any relation to reality, he had no idea. He wasn't being paid to ask questions.
Life, strange as it had become, was pretty damn good, all things considered.
At least, it was until Yang Xiao Long decided to saunter up to him, hips swaying, that signature cocky grin plastered on her lips. Jaune glanced up, one eyebrow arched in mild suspicion as he watched her casually toss herself into the seat across from him.
"Hey there, Ladykiller," Yang began, grinning in a way that immediately set Jaune on high alert, "Busy day?"
He tapped his scroll thoughtfully, keeping his tone deliberately neutral, "Something like that," he replied slowly, eyes narrowing just slightly. He knew that look. That was the look of someone about to make his day complicated, "What's up, Yang?"
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm, violet eyes glittering with mischief, "So, I took a look at your site last night."
Jaune felt his stomach twist slightly. This was not the start to a conversation he was hoping for, "Oh," he managed after a moment, his voice cautiously steady, "Did you now?"
Yang waved a hand casually, as if it were no big deal, "Yeah, you know. Just out of curiosity. A few laughs, mostly."
Jaune's eye twitched, "Glad you found my livelihood funny," he deadpanned, scrolling idly through the bookings as if he'd heard this a thousand times. Which, given Nora, Ruby, and basically everyone else, he kind of had. Apparently, the idea of him, of all people, being paid for high quality maid sex still boggled people's minds.
Yang laughed loudly, leaning back in her chair, "C'mon, Vomit Boy. You have to admit, it's pretty hilarious. I mean, who'd have thought Jaune Arc would be Vale's hottest maid?"
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes into orbit, "Is there an actual point to this, or are you just trying to lower my self-esteem for sport?"
Yang grinned even wider, leaning in again and lowering her voice conspiratorially, "Actually, I wanna hire you."
Jaune paused. Froze, really. He blinked, once, twice, processing what she'd just said. Yang Xiao Long wanted to hire him. Yang. Beacon's loudest, toughest, most confident brawler (and most notorious flirt). Yang, who never had trouble getting anyone she wanted, was openly asking to buy his services. He coughed lightly, recomposing himself, "Uh-huh. Right. Well, Yang, I'd love to accommodate you, but you realize I don't come cheap, right?" He flipped open his booking rates casually, showing her the premium prices without a hint of shame.
Yang's eyes bulged as she glanced at the numbers. She sputtered for a moment, seemingly caught between outrage and disbelief, "What the heck, Jaune?! That's your rate? I'm literally offering to sleep with you!" she hissed, looking around to make sure nobody overheard, "Most guys would kill for that kind of opportunity!"
Jaune met her eyes, "Then maybe you should go talk to those guys," he said calmly, tone dry, "I'm being paid very well to sleep with people. Why would I do it for free?"
Yang spluttered again, her cheeks coloring indignantly, "Because we're friends!" she finally managed, as if it were the most obvious reason in the world.
Jaune gave her a flat look, leaning back with his arms crossed, "Friends?" he repeated, "Yang, we're kinda friends, at best. Really, I'm more Ruby's friend. You mostly just chime in occasionally to remind me that I puked on your boots during initiation."
Yang bristled, visibly offended, "Hey! That's not true! I... uh..." She hesitated, clearly unable to think of a counterargument quickly enough. She glared at him instead, "The point is, it's supposed to be an honor for you! I'm Yang freakin' Xiao Long!" He blinked. Well, someone had an inflated ego, didn't they? And he thought Weiss had it bad.
Jaune nodded sagely, "Yeah, I figured out who you are, thanks," he drawled, complete unimpressed, "You're Yang Xiao Long, and you're asking to hire Jaune Arc, the professional crossdressing maid-slash-escort. For my professional rates."
Yang's lilac eyes flashed with annoyance, and she leaned back, crossing her arms with a huff. After a moment of irritated contemplation, she reluctantly dug into her pocket and yanked out a thick bundle of lien cards, practically throwing them across the table at him.
"Fine," she growled, the pout on her lips almost comically wide, "You better be good, Arc."
Jaune casually gathered the cards, counting them methodically, "You're short." He hummed, meeting her glare without blinking, "That's only half the fee."
Yang let out a strangled noise, her face turning a remarkable shade of red, "Are you kidding me?! Half? You haven't even done anything yet!"
"Exactly," Jaune retorted smoothly, "That's why it's called upfront payment. You pay first. Besides, it's not like you're strapped for cash." He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow, "Right?"
She glared at him a moment longer before grumbling under her breath and pushing herself up from the table with dramatic flair, "Fine. I'll pay the other half after," she snapped, spinning on her heel and storming away in an irritated huff, drawing more than a few startled glances from nearby students.
Jaune sighed, shaking his head in tired amusement as he neatly pocketed the lien cards. This was his life now. Charging Yang Xiao Long for services he once would've gladly offered for free. The absurdity of it all wasn't lost on him. Weeks ago, if someone told him Yang would literally offer herself to him, he would've been doing cartwheels down the halls. He would've been fistbumping like a lunatic
Now? Now he just wondered if he should've charged her extra for being a pain in the ass.
He slumped back in his chair, staring blankly at the ceiling, "Well," he muttered quietly to himself, "A client's a client." He couldn't help but laugh softly at his own predicament, "Oh god, I've become that kind of person. I'm charging Yang Xiao Long." Somewhere deep inside him, the starry-eyed teenager who once would've jumped at the chance to date someone like Yang was shaking his head in disbelief. The practical, financially secure entrepreneur he'd become, however, was already mentally calculating how to invest Yang's lien into a nice vacation.
Maybe a nice little cabin in Patch.
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Jaune stood outside Team RWBY's dorm room, dressed once again in his now-famous (and frankly, worryingly comfortable) maid outfit. He briefly stared at the door with something approaching tired resignation, one hand clutching a small black case containing his usual cleaning supplies and accessories, the other holding his scroll. Yang had sent him a message, promising that her teammates would all be out, assuring him that they'd have the whole dormitory to themselves for the evening. It had sounded nice enough at the time, but now that he was standing here, he couldn't help but feel a little bit... disappointed.
It just felt kind of lazy. Cheap, even. Say what you wanted about Weiss Schnee - and Jaune could say plenty - but at least she'd gone the extra mile and booked out an upscale luxury hotel. Granted, that was before her father had tightened her financial leash, but still. Compared to that, Yang's setup felt like the bargain-bin, store-brand version of his usual service. If he was charging premium rates, shouldn't the location at least be somewhere nicer than a Beacon Academy dorm room with Yang's tangled mess of blankets and Ruby's scattered cookie crumbs?
With a quiet sigh and a practiced, professional smile fixed firmly in place, Jaune lifted his hand and knocked lightly on the door. He heard a startled squeak, a curse muffled through the door, and what sounded suspiciously like someone stumbling over a piece of furniture. Moments later, the door jerked open, revealing Yang.
The other blonde looked... distinctly unsettled.
She was pacing nervously even as she opened the door wider, casting glances around the dorm as if checking that no one was about to burst through the window and discover them. Jaune furrowed his brow just slightly, a faint flicker of unease tickling the back of his mind. Nervousness usually meant complications. And complications usually meant hours of unpaid overtime and a headache that no amount of lien could soothe.
But, he ignored that gut instinct and stepped gracefully inside, setting his cleaning case carefully on the desk near Ruby's bed. He took a moment to collect himself before dropping into the now-routine curtsy that came so easily to him, voice rising slightly into that soft, demure, professional lilt he'd perfected after weeks of practice.
"Good evening, Mistress. Juliette, at your serv-"
"Yeah, okay, that's enough," Yang blurted out hastily, cutting him off mid-curtsy. Jaune blinked. Huh. That was... fast. Usually, even his most eager clients at least wanted a token amount of the maid experience before moving things along. And Yang was definitely the type to milk the scenario for all it was worth, "Take it off," she said abruptly, waving vaguely at his outfit. She was still pacing, anxiety radiating off her in waves.
Jaune raised an eyebrow, still frozen mid-curtsy, trying not to feel personally slighted by how quickly she'd brushed past his admittedly impeccable customer service skills, "Uh... are you sure? Most clients at least-"
"Yeah, I'm sure," Yang interrupted, voice terse and edged with embarrassment. She refused to look him in the eye, and instead hurried over to her closet, yanking open the doors with a bit more force than necessary. She rummaged frantically through her belongings, muttering softly to herself before finally letting out a triumphant little noise.
Then, with all the confidence she could summon (and honestly, not much dignity) Yang turned and thrust something toward him.
Jaune's eyes widened, his heart sinking faster than his former crush on Weiss.
Yang held out a scandalously short, red, thigh-high kimono paired with silky black stockings, a set of vivid red contact lenses balanced precariously on top. And, he squinted, a black wig with long, sleek tresses spilling through her fingers. Jaune stared at the ensemble, mouth slightly agape as he mentally struggled to parse what exactly she was asking for here.
With an expression so serious and somber that Jaune almost felt bad for her, Yang took a deep breath and looked him directly in the eyes, "I want you to put this on," she stated firmly, "The contacts, wig, everything."
Jaune's gaze flicked from Yang's carefully blank face down to the incredibly specific costume ensemble clutched tightly in her hands. Something was clicking in his mind and his stomach twisted unpleasantly, "Uh," Jaune began carefully, "That's a bit different from the usual requests I get. Mind explaining what this is all about?" Why did it feel like he was trapped in the room with Weiss?
Yang visibly struggled, cheeks tinged crimson. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, looking away. After a tense pause, she finally exhaled, squaring her shoulders and forcing out the words through gritted teeth, "Just put the fucking stuff on, Arc. Oh, and one more thing. During the session, I'll be... calling you Raven."
Jaune's heart sank further. Oh. Oh, no. He recognized that name. He knew exactly who Raven was. Raven, the notorious Branwen bandit leader, feared warrior... and Yang Xiao Long's notoriously absent mother. The same mother she constantly claimed to not give a shit about but was clearly emotionally entangled with in all the worst ways.
A deeply uncomfortable silence hung thickly between them, broken only by the faint hum of Beacon's hallway lights outside. Jaune slowly looked from Yang's deeply earnest, mortified expression back down to the kimono in her hands, then back up to her increasingly anxious eyes.
For several long seconds, Jaune didn't speak. He just stared, his brain attempting a very hurried reboot sequence. A sister complex had been bad enough -Weiss had pushed him into territory he wasn't exactly comfortable exploring, being a middle child of seven sisters - but at least that had been somewhat understandable. Sibling rivalry, family pressure, high expectations. Weird, but logical.
But now Yang... this was different. This was a whole new level of strange. Yang Xiao Long wanted him to dress up as her deadebat mom while she...what? Fucked him? Cried on his lap? He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly for a second as he fought off a sudden wave of existential dread. First Weiss and her blatant sister complex, now Yang and... this. He was beginning to worry that "Juliette" might be cursed, attracting only clients with deeply uncomfortable family issues and concerning emotional baggage. Maybe he needed to raise his rates. Maybe he needed therapy. Maybe both.
Jaune exhaled heavily, opened his eyes, and looked down at the offered kimono again, resigning himself to the inevitable. Yang was staring expectantly, almost pleadingly, clearly mortified but determined. Slowly, with the solemn dignity of a soldier heading off to war, Jaune took the outfit from her outstretched hands. Yang sagged in visible relief, shoulders relaxing slightly.
Jaune stared at the kimono in his hands with the weary resignation of a man who'd seen too much. The money, he reminded himself as he shuffled toward the bathroom. Just think about the money.
"You know," Yang called after him, voice pitched several octaves higher than usual, "This is totally normal! Everyone has roleplay fantasies!"
Jaune paused at the bathroom door, turning slowly to face her with a deadpan expression, "Dressing someone up as your deadbeat mom is normal?"
Yang's face flushed crimson, "It's not- I don't-" She crossed her arms defensively, "It's not about mommy issues! I just... happen to like the aesthetic! The whole bandit queen vibe is... you know... cool."
"Right," Jaune nodded mechanically, "And the name?"
"Total coincidence!" Yang blurted too quickly, "Raven is just..." She flapped her hands vaguely, "Ravens are literally my least favorite birds! So negative and... bird-like!"
Jaune blinked slowly, "Your least favorite birds."
"Absolutely!" Yang said, pacing nervously, "Crows? Love 'em. Seagulls? Adorable thieves. But ravens? Can't stand 'em. Too... black and... ravenous."
Jaune didn't even try to hide his disbelief, "And that's why you want me to dress up as one and call me Raven."
"Exactly!" Yang snapped her fingers as if he'd just solved a complex mathematical equation, "See? You get it!"
"I really don't," Jaune muttered, disappearing into the bathroom.
He laid out the ensemble on the counter, studying it with the clinical detachment of someone dissociating from reality. The kimono was clearly expensive-quality silk, precise stitching, and alarmingly accurate to what little he'd seen of Yang's mother in news reports about bandit raids. The wig looked professionally styled. Even the contacts were high-end.
"How long have you been planning this?" he called through the door.
There was a suspicious pause, "Planning what?" Yang's voice was strained, "This totally spur-of-the-moment, not-at-all-thought-out thing?"
Jaune sighed, beginning to swap his maid outfit for the kimono, "You just happened to have a perfect Raven costume lying around?"
"I'm... into cosplay?" Yang offered weakly.
"Uh-huh," Jaune murmured, struggling with the wig, "And do you often cosplay as your own mom?"
"SHE'S NOT-" Yang caught herself, clearing her throat, "It's just a style preference! Some people like nurse outfits. Some people like maid outfits. I like... this!"
Jaune carefully inserted the red contacts, blinking until they settled. The transformation was disturbingly effective-even he had to admit, staring at his reflection, that the resemblance was uncanny. The red eyes staring back at him seemed to ask, What life choices brought you here? "You better be paying the other half," he muttered to himself, adjusting the kimono's neckline, "Maid service therapy isn't covered by Beacon's health plan."
When he emerged, Yang's reaction was immediate and unsettling. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating as she took an unconscious step backward. Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly, fingers twitching at her sides. He did NOT like the look on her face. That should not be the look someone gave to a person dressed like their mom.
"So," Jaune said flatly, spreading his arms, "Is this what your least favorite bird looks like?"
Yang swallowed hard, "It's... accurate," she managed, voice suddenly husky.
Jaune sighed deeply, "I charge extra for psychological damage, just so you know."
"Worth it," Yang whispered, almost to herself.
"What was that?"
"Nothing!" Yang straightened, composing herself, "Just... you know... appreciating well-made the outfit is!"
Jaune crossed his arms, the kimono's silk rustling softly, "Yang, we both know what this is."
"A completely normal roleplay scenario?" She offered a brittle smile.
"This is about your mom issues."
"I don't have mom issues!" Yang protested, throwing her hands up, "I have abandonment issues, thank you very much! Totally different category of trauma!"
Jaune couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity, "Oh, well in that case, my bad. Clearly this is completely healthy and not at all concerning!"
Yang pointed an accusatory finger at him, "Hey! You dressed up as Weiss's sister for her! How is this any different?"
"It's not," Jaune admitted tiredly. He didn't even ask how she knew that considering Weiss insisted on keeping it a secret, "You're both really sketch clients with family issues that would make a therapist retire early. At least Pyrrha just wanted me in the maid outfit without making me call her mommy."
Yang's eyebrows shot up, "Wait, you and Pyrrha-"
"Not relevant," Jaune cut her off, running a hand through the wig's silky strands. Why was it so high quality?! "Look, I'm here, I'm dressed up, you're paying me. Let's just get this over with so I can start repressing this whole thing."
Yang nodded eagerly, already moving toward the bed, "Right! Yeah! Let's do this!"
As he followed her, Jaune couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "First Schnee family roleplay, now Branwen bandit fantasy. I swear to gods, if Ruby asks me to dress up as their dad next..."
Yang froze mid-step, "What was that?"
"Nothing," Jaune sighed, "Just calculating how much therapy this is going to cost me." Yang had the decency to look momentarily guilty before her gaze drifted back to the red-eyed, kimono-clad figure before her. Her expression shifted, something complicated and deeply concerning flickering across her face, "The money," Jaune reminded himself yet again, taking a steadying breath, "Just think about the money."
And the hours of therapy he was definitely scheduling first thing tomorrow.
As soon as Yang reached the bed, it was like a switch flipped. Her jittery pacing disappeared and her body went weirdly still. When she turned around, her eyes were blood red and the voice that came out was hard and rough, "On your fucking knees." She tapped the ground in front of her with her right boot.
Jaune wasn't even fazed by the sudden shift. With the grace of a true professional, he did just that, holding back a cringe as he knees hit cookie crumbs. He looked up at her crimson orbs. For most students, being on their knees while a pissed off Yang looked down at them was a cause for concern, but Jaune already knew better by now. He didn't say anything yet. She'd tell him when.
"Well, well, well." She chuckled, the sound low and hoarse. She reached out with her right hand and grabbed the top of his wig, pulling it back to jerk his head up. He followed along. The wig was fastened tight in preparation for any rough play, but the last thing either of them needed was it slipping off, "The great Raven, the scourge of Anima. How's it feel being fucking helpless? Huh?" She tugged the wig again.
"...Yang, rough play costs extra."
"Wha?" Her red eyes turned lilac again, "Dude, you're ruining this!"
"And if you pull any harder, the wig's gonna come off!" he shot back, "You wanna get handsy? Grab the kimono or something! At least that's supposed to come off. But remember, rough stuff costs extra."
"Rrgh, fine! Just...stay in character!"
"What character? I thought this was just your least favorite bird?" Jaune blinked innocently.
"I swear to the Brothers, Jaune." She shook her head, "Look, just act like an overconfident bitch. Like, the kind of bitch who ditches her husband and baby without even changing a single diaper and thinks she's the hottest shit ever."
"Fine." He was even nice enough to not comment on how this was OBVIOUSLY about her mommy issues. Jaune coughed and schooled his face in a defiant, resting bitch face expression, "I'm sorry? Am I supposed to know who you are? I deal with cocky little brats all the time."
That did it. Yang's sadistic smirk came back and her eyes turned red again. She did take his advice, at least, and shifted her hand from the wig to the collar of the kimono, "Huh, you're as much of a bitch as dad said." Her smirk widened, the gesture all teeth, "It's kinda amazing that you've still got your head so far up your ass after I knocked your teeth in."
"You got lucky." Jaune scoffed. He made sure to sound as Weiss-like as possible, "What do you want, brat? Come to cry on my lap and ask why I left?"
Yang tossed him roughly onto the bed. Jaune broke character for a second and yelped as he ended up flat on his back. Before he could even sit up, Yang was already on top of him. The other blonde straddled his waist, her eyes searing into his while her hair burned across her back like a fiery waterfall. She was angry, but more than that, she was loving this. She wanted to be pissed.
Jaune twitched as he felt Jaune Junior stirring. The kimono had ridden up when she threw him, exposing the spats underneath (lingerie cost extra, thank you very much). Even with how weird this whole thing was, he couldn't deny that Yang was hot. One of the hottest women in the school, according to chatter in the guys locker room. Even the seniors looked twice when she walked down the halls.
And now she looked like she wanted to destroy him.
Yang cupped the sides of his jaw with both hands and leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss. No, calling it a kiss was an understatement. He'd had desperate and domineering clients before, but they were usually civilians without Aura or combat training. Yang put them all to shame. Her pressed against his mouth like she was trying to suffocate him, her tongue battering his as she licked, sucked, and bit him like a Grimm mauling a civilian.
And... he was into it.
His cock rose rapidly, pressing against her right thigh through his spats. He felt Yang smile against his lips before she growled, "What's wrong, Raven? Getting hard for the daughter you ditched?" Jaune winced. Did she really have to remind him that this was about her mommy issues? "Fucking pathetic."
"Yang-"
"No." She put a finger against his lips, surprisingly gentle, "You don't get to talk this time, Raven."
Yang shucked off her jacket with her tube top following shortly after. Despite everything, Jaune couldn't help but stare. Clients tended to be a mixed bag. Huntress clients were all lookers - it was a joke that there's literally not a single average-looking Huntress in Remnant thanks to their Aura and training - while civilians ran the gamut from pretty to dowdy.
But Yang? She was like a work of art. Muscles that almost put Pyrrha to shame with lightly tanned, flawless skin from a life of outdoor living. Her tits were huge, probably the biggest among their two teams, and below that? Abs. Abs you could grate Dust crystals on. While he had a thing for petite women like Weiss, there was an undeniable appeal to a woman who looked like she could paint the walls with his guts.
... No, he didn't have issues.
"See this?" She flexed her arms, showing off the rippling muscles, "I didn't need you to be strong, Raven. I didn't need to go squat in the woods like a crazy murder hobo to prove anything."
And just like that, he was checking out again. He was almost tempted to pay Yang back her deposit if she just stopped opening her mouth. His eyes glazed over as she continued ranting and he looked out the window. There, sitting on a bench right outside, was a single raven. It stared at them both without blinking, practically radiating judgement. He could've sworn its beak was frowning.
"Hey, you listening?!" Yang grabbed his face and forced him to face her again.
"Sorry, I don't care about the opinions of shitty brats," Jaune said. Hey, at least he was keeping in character.
"You little..." She growled. For a second, he thought she'd forget the rules and smack him in the face. Instead, she shimmied off her shorts to expose her lightly shaved pussy. He didn't get the chance to say anything back before she tore off his shorts - literally tore them off - and positioned her entrance over his erect dick.
She slammed herself down until he took his cock up to the base. No hesitation, no foreplay, nothing. Jaune gasped like he was punched while Yang let out a sound between a growl and a groan of pain. She was tight. Gods, so fucking tight. Through bleary eyes, he saw her hair turning into fire itself, her breaths coming out in quick, ragged pants.
"Y-Yang..."
"Sh-Shut up...!" She pressed both hands against his chest and slowly lifted herself up. Inch by agonizing inch, his cock was slowly pulled out of her cunt, the walls pressing against the sides like they refused to let go. He was tempted to reach out and grab her hips, to slam her back down on his dick till she screamed.
Instead, he forced his hands to his sides and held back. This was a job, he told himself. This was Yang fucking her way through whatever mommy issues she had. Customer satisfaction. He repeated the phrase like a mantra she raised herself until only the head of his dick was inside.
Then she slammed back down. It wasn't controlled or particularly methodical. Her hips and ass just fell like she tripped and his dick went inside with a little less resistance than before, "Th-That's right..." Yang moaned and balled her hands into shaky fists, tearing at the kimono's high quality fabric. He didn't bother to shout out a warning. It was her money. If she wanted to tear it off, it was her business.
Jaune's breaths came out sharp and quick. He looked away again, trying to focus on something else to keep himself from cumming too quickly.
His eyes were drawn to the raven perched outside the window again. It was still there, still watching them with silent judgement. For some reason, he could almost see an eyebrow raised in contempt.
Another black bird - a crow - joined the judgmental raven. It perched next to her (after taking a few swipes with its claws) then turned to face the window. Its beak parted once it saw them, like it was expecting them to stop and throw seeds at it right in the middle of their fucking. It looked between them and the perching raven before it fell off the branch like a stone.
...
Well, that was weird.
"I said LOOK AT ME!" Yang grabbed his jaw with one hand and forced him to face her. Red met red as Yang held his head in place, "You don't get to ignore me anymore, Raven! Twenty fucking years and you're finally gonna pay attention to me!"
Jaune groaned, and it had nothing to do with the fact that his dick was in her snatch. He silently pleading for Yang to just please stop talking, but of course, she didn't. He did his best to simultaneously look at her tune and out the blubbering rant she really should've been giving to a therapist instead of someone she was fucking like a bitch in heat.
When he finally came (after pulling out, of course), it felt more like an obligation than anything else. Did it feel good? Absolutely. Did it feel like he should've been charging more than his usual rate? Also absolutely. Yang gasped and fell on top of him, and even the feeling of her tits pressing against his chest did little to change how mentally haggard he felt. Through the window, he just barely saw the Raven caw before flying away in what felt like disgust.
"There, there..." Jaune patted her back awkwardly as she cried about how 'she' left her. Maybe he should offer counseling services next time.
Hours later, Jaune stood in Team RWBY's bathroom, methodically washing away all traces of the Raven persona. The red contacts came out first, dropped unceremoniously into their case. The wig followed, carefully set aside despite his urge to burn it. As he scrubbed his face clean, he caught glimpses of his expression in the mirror. A thousand-yard stare that spoke volumes about what he'd just endured.
"Never again," he muttered to his reflection, which seemed to nod in solemn agreement.
He reached for his maid outfit, the familiar frills and lace offering a strange comfort after hours of... whatever that had been. At least as Juliette, he was playing a character he'd created, not someone's estranged mother with who they wanted to hate fuck.
Yang lounged on her bed, looking far too relaxed for someone who had just enacted what was essentially several hours of extremely expensive therapy. Her hair was tousled, her expression satisfied in a way that made Jaune's skin crawl when he thought about the context. She didn't look like someone who spent the past couple of hours bawling and asking about why she wasn't good enough.
"So," she drawled as he emerged from the bathroom, adjusting his headband, "That was... something, huh?"
"Something's one word for it," Jaune replied flatly. He straightened his apron, preparing to leave this experience firmly in his mental 'never speak of again' file alongside most of his Weiss encounters, "Where's the rest of my fee?"
Yang's relaxed demeanor faltered. She coughed awkwardly, suddenly finding the ceiling fascinating, "Right. About that..."
Jaune paused, a chill running down his spine. He knew that tone. That was the universal tone of someone about to try weaseling out of a financial obligation, "Yang," he said, his voice dangerously calm, "The rest of my payment?"
She sat up, rubbing the back of her neck with an awkward laugh, "Okay, well... funny story. I don't exactly... have it?"
The silence that followed was so thick you could have cut it with Crocea Mors, "You don't have it," Jaune repeated, each word carefully measured.
"Well, I had it," Yang clarified quickly, gesturing toward the discarded Raven outfit, "But that shit wasn't exactly cheap, you know? Premium silk, custom tailoring, professional-grade contacts..."
Jaune stared at her blankly, "You spent my payment... on the outfit... that you made me wear."
"When you put it like that, it sounds bad!" Yang whined.
"How else should I put it?"
"Like... an investment in the experience?" She offered a hopeful smile, "Besides, you got half already! Maybe this one could be a freebie? For friendship? And getting to fuck the hottest chick at Beacon?" She winked and stuck her tongue out, a gesture that would've left any other man a puddle on the floor.
Jaune was not any other man.
His eye twitched. He took a deep breath, counting backward from ten. When he spoke, his voice was eerily calm, "Yang Xiao Long," he said, straightening to his full height (which, in heels, was considerable), "You owe me the rest of my payment. This is not a negotiation."
Yang's smile faltered, "Come on, Vomit Boy, don't be like that-"
"You have until next week," Jaune continued as if she hadn't spoken, "Or I'll be taking you to small claims court."
Yang's jaw dropped, "What? Small claims- are you fucking serious?!"
"Completely." Jaune didn't blink, "I have our agreement in writing, timestamped messages confirming your booking, and half-payment as evidence of intent. I have a business to run, and I don't work for free. Especially not for whatever that was."
"That's going way too far!" Yang yelped, scrambling off the bed, "We're friends! You can't sue your friends!"
"Friends pay their debts," Jaune replied coldly, "And by the way, you're also banned."
"Banned?!" Yang spluttered, "You can't ban me!"
"One month minimum," Jaune continued, collecting his cleaning kit, "For jerking me around." And she didn't even jerk him around. He would've lowered the ban if she did.
"But- But-" Yang was practically hopping with indignation now, "What if I need your services again? What if I have... you know... urges?"
"Then I suggest cold showers and therapy," Jaune said, heading for the door, "Lots of therapy. Maybe you can book a double session with Weiss. I know a good family therapist if you need a recommendation."
Yang followed him, still protesting, "This is ridiculous! I'll pay you back, but a ban? Really? Come on, Jaune, be reasonable-"
"Goodbye, Yang," Jaune cut her off, opening the door, "I expect payment in full by next Friday. Have a good night."
He stepped into the hallway, shutting the door on her continued sputtering. Her muffled complaints followed him down the corridor, but Jaune didn't look back. He walked with the straight-backed dignity of someone who had just survived yet another bizarre encounter in what was becoming an increasingly strange career. Not a walk of shame. A walk of pride.
... Mostly pride.
"Therapy," he muttered to himself as he headed back to his dorm, "Definitely scheduling a therapy session tomorrow." And maybe a business management course focusing on advance deposits and contract enforcement.
[line break]
Omake: That's So Raven
Jaune tugged nervously at the long blonde wig, the hair cascading down his shoulders in a way that felt distressingly familiar. The texture, the color, the particular wave of the strands... it looked exactly like Yang's hair. Far too much like Yang's hair. The resemblance made his stomach twist uncomfortably considering their last meeting.
"Is this really necessary?" he asked, eyeing his client warily.
Raven Branwen - yes, the Raven Branwen, notorious bandit leader and Yang's estranged mother - merely smirked. Her red eyes glinted with amusement as she gestured imperiously toward the bed.
"Sit," she commanded.
Jaune sighed but obeyed, perching awkwardly on the edge of the mattress. The hotel room was aggressively luxurious, the kind of place where the minibar water cost more than his old combat boots. The booking request had come out of nowhere: a hefty advance payment and sparse instructions, with the name "R. Branwen" on the form. He'd assumed it was a pseudonym until she'd walked through the door in all her terrifying glory.
"So... what exactly am I supposed to do?" Jaune asked, crossing his legs nervously, "Cleaning? Tea service? Um... other services?" His female clients came from all ages. Young, old, and in-between. His only stipulation was that they were legal.
Raven didn't answer. She tilted her head, studying him with an unreadable expression, her mouth a tight line. Then, without a word, she turned and walked toward the door.
Jaune blinked in confusion, "Wait, where are you-"
The door clicked shut behind her.
Jaune stared at the empty space where Raven had been standing just moments before, his mouth hanging open, "Uh..." he said to the empty room. Had she forgotten something? Was this some kind of test? Was she coming back with... equipment? Jaune shuddered at the possibilities. Given his recent experiences with the women in his life, nothing would surprise him anymore.
He waited. And waited. Minutes ticked by. The silence of the room pressed in on him. He checked his scroll - fifteen minutes had passed.
"Hello?" he called out uncertainly.
No response. He stood up, pacing nervously. Maybe this was some kind of elaborate roleplay scenario he wasn't familiar with? Maybe she wanted him to chase after her? Or maybe she'd been called away for some emergency bandit business? Sorry, can't stay for my weird sex appointment, there's a village that needs raiding cause I'm actually a monster.
Thirty minutes. He sent a message: Is everything okay? No response.
An hour. He'd tried the door. Unlocked. He could leave if he wanted, but she'd paid in advance. A lot. And Juliette didn't bail on contracts.
Two hours. Jaune lay back on the bed, still wearing the blonde wig, staring blankly at the ceiling, "What is happening right now?" he asked the chandelier. The chandelier didn't respond.
Four hours. He'd gone through all five stages of grief, reorganized his scroll apps by color, and counted the ceiling tiles twice, "This," he said to the empty room, "Is officially the weirdest booking I've ever had."
Finally, just as the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the plush carpet, the door clicked open. Raven walked in as casually as if she'd just stepped out for coffee, not a hair out of place. She looked at Jaune, still wearing the blonde wig (though considerably more disheveled after hours of anxious fidgeting), and nodded once.
"Good. You stayed," she said, as if this were a completely normal interaction.
Jaune sat up straight, bewilderment giving way to indignation, "You were gone for six hours!"
Raven shrugged, reaching into her pocket and tossing a stack of lien cards onto the bed beside him, "Here. For your time."
Jaune stared at the money, then back at Raven, "What... What was that? What just happened? What was the point of all this?"
Raven's lips curved into a cold smile, "Neglect play. I was feeling nostalgic."
The words took a moment to register. When they did, Jaune's jaw dropped, "Wait - you mean you just... left? On purpose? That was the whole service you wanted?"
"Yep." Raven crossed her arms, looking unnervingly pleased with herself, "Six hours of abandonment. Just like old times."
Jaune stared at her in horrified realization. The blonde wig. The sitting and waiting. The abandonment, "Oh my god," he whispered, "You're fucked up."
Raven didn't even flinch at the accusation. She merely raised an eyebrow, her red eyes glacial, "Says the boy taking money to wear a wig and sit on his ass for six hours." She gestured to the lien pile, "Easiest job you've ever had, wasn't it?" Jaune looked down at the money - it was substantially more than his usual rate - then back at the bandit leader. He couldn't argue with her logic, as twisted as it was.
Ugh...this sucked.
"Get going," Raven said, "Unless you wanna stay for round two? I could leave for twelve hours this time. And no scroll."
"No thank you," Jaune said quickly, gathering the lien and standing up. He pulled off the blonde wig, tossing it onto the bed with perhaps more force than necessary, "I think I've had enough Branwen family therapy for one lifetime."
Raven's cold laugh followed him to the door, "Smart boy."
As Jaune reached for the handle, a thought struck him. He turned back, unable to help himself, "Does Yang know about... any of this?"
Raven's smile froze, something unreadable flickering in her eyes, "What happens between a client and service provider stays between them, doesn't it, Juliette?"
The emphasis on his professional name was clear - a reminder of his own precarious reputation. Jaune swallowed hard and nodded, "Right. Well. Have a... have a good evening," he managed, slipping out the door.
In the hallway, Jaune leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly as he tried to process what had just happened. Somehow, despite doing absolutely nothing for six hours, he felt more exhausted than after any other booking.
"The Branwen women," he muttered to himself, pocketing the huge stack of lien, "Never again." But even as he said it, he knew that given the amount of lien in his pocket, he'd probably do it again in a heartbeat. Six hours of doing nothing but waiting around in a wig? Compared to his usual bookings, that was practically a vacation.
Maybe he was a little fucked up too.
[line break]
Mommy issues Yang done. Poor Jaune. Guy might as well just take a job as a proper therapist with all the family issues he's dealing with.
Comments
The Brotherhood of Steel
Needed a good laugh
